Not only Vremya, Vesti, RBC, talk shows with Solovyov, but also the beloved Travel & Living, NBO and 2×2. Completely dry. That is, no drinks for appetite or before bed. There will be a prayer before going to bed. I didn’t go to the Himalayas and end up in prison, the circumstances turned out that way.
At first, the new apartment didn’t have a good antenna, but I didn’t want a bad one, I’m not a scout behind enemy lines who needs to find out at all costs how Ksyusha Borodina or Pavel Volya are doing, I need my favorite satellite channels, and then it became like… then not before that. A new interesting job appeared, there was almost no time left for any nonsense, and I didn’t want to waste what was left on nonsense. There are beloved friends, there is nature, there is blessed silence, in the end! And in general, when you are forty, you begin to notice that there are catastrophically few good thoughts in your head, and there are already very few of them, and then someone is always crawling in with their filthy, pathetic stories about singing cowards or politics, they squeak and crawl, and you are left hanging your ears , just to do nothing, and this already seems to be a diagnosis.
What if this is the last day of your uninteresting life that has not had time to get anywhere, then what? Will you come to God and say: Here, Lord, everything is mine – these are the singing cowards, here are the politics, here are the scanty articles no one needs, written in a hurry, here are the plans that were never realized because I ran through and then wasted time on all sorts of nonsense, and then it ended. This is the only thing that will not happen later – this very time. But the singing cowards will remain. And all that remains is to look at them until the Second Coming.
To hear another, you need to stop talking. To hear yourself, you need to be in silence at least a little. Some people find silence scary. Some are ready to jump out of the window, just not to be left with themselves. Silence is God, this is the return of the prodigal son to an abandoned threshold and an extinguished hearth. This is the joy of the first prayer, the dawn outside the window and a notebook with writing on the table. You stand, look, stunned with happiness and fatigue, at the dawn outside the window, and you know that everything is as good as you can imagine and wish. And this cannot be taken away from you, just as you cannot take away the sleeping girl curled up under the blanket in the corner of your bed. It is the person who gives it himself.
…I started with the simplest thing – turned off the TV. Of course, at first you feel a little uncomfortable at breakfast without Euronews or RBC, but then nothing goes away. And when in the evening before going to bed, out of habit, your hand reaches for the remote control, you pick up good books (now it’s “The Tale of the House of Tyra”, and before that there were Chesterton’s essays and Georgian folk stories), and life little by little gets better.
The first thing I noticed was how nice the people around were! Just now I found out that my neighbors in the stairwell are two wonderful boys: the elder Dimka, who can heat up lunch and feed the youngest Styopka, while their mother earns money in some architectural bureau, and Styopka, despite his four years, can already completely paint everything wallpaper in the kitchen. In half an hour, with one healing marker “Lex” forgotten in plain sight. While mom is at work, the boys are building a fortress in the sandbox, and the neighbor downstairs is the widow of a famous scientist who traveled to the Chernobyl accident fifteen times, which is why he died, and back in the late 80s she took her granddaughters to monasteries. Tamara is already over seventy, and she thinks better than my students, and was a witness to the events that Leonid Parfenov talks about in “Namedni.” Ugh, I’m talking about TV again! It will not be remembered by night…